


put your money where those chainsaw chompers are drilled into your poor unsuspecting gums

by SoAshamed



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Homestuck Shipping Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-19
Updated: 2012-07-19
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoAshamed/pseuds/SoAshamed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>(Or how Terezi learned to stop 8itching and just place her 8ets already!!!!!!!!)</i>
</p>
<p>She is the only available hero of mind and she has already decided that this time she is going to minimize the element of chance as much as she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put your money where those chainsaw chompers are drilled into your poor unsuspecting gums

Gambling tastes revolting.

It tastes revolting, it smells revolting, it even feels revolting and Terezi wants as little to do with it as possible.

Except that isn't quite right. At its essence gambling tastes like sweat and gold and smells like saffron. It feels like a pounding heartbeat and a shaking hand. It's nothing too off-putting, really. While Terezi has never cared for saffron or sweat she has never been revolted by them either.

But sometimes smells and tastes mix in her mind with memories; it gives her the strangest kind of double vision. Just like the smell of black metal makes her think of visits to her mom's scale at night, gambling is inextricably linked to something else entirely. It tastes like bitter bubblegum blues weighted heavy with the metallic tang of blood on the back of her tongue. It smells like copper and rot, feels like the split second of a sword meeting resistance before crunching through a ribcage.

It makes her feel sick.

\--

"Oh _please!_ " Vriska really is a sight in her FLARPing outfit, tall and terrifying. She's still much too compact to be an adult, but her heels give her the height Terezi lacks and the blacks and blues of her outfit run stark against her skin. She is a pretty troll as far as that can take her, which isn't all that far with her personality. But, as anyone who has met her knows, it's Vriska's confidence that is the most repellent and unbelievably attractive thing about her. "We gamble everyday of our lives! Everything we do is a gamble."

Terezi glares down at her cane, tinted red through her costume glasses. As per usual Vriska is glossing over the details.

The truth is that it's _Vriska_ who gambles, just recklessly throwing herself at things and wanting them to turn out how she had hopes, revelling in her successes and blowing up over her failures.

Terezi doesn’t do that; she plans.

She is broken out of her thoughts by Vriska grabbing her arm and yanking her up close. "Come on, the campaign will be _fun!_ Stop worrying so much!" Vriska rolls her eyes with such exaggeration Terezi is sure you would have needed to be blind to miss it. "I don't need two fussyfangs in my business."

\--

From the minute she had entered the medium Terezi had been reckless with her powers, treating them more like a game than anything else. She has been using them when she felt like it and not bothering for the things she didn't care about.

Not anymore. A new session, a new beginning. She is the only available hero of mind and she has already decided that this time she is going to minimize the element of chance as much as she can.

\--

Meditation isn't a thing most trolls do – she's heard of some highbloods who had gotten into the practice via moirail, but never for any kind of enlightenment. Still, though Terezi can See at will, meditation remains the least taxing way for her to do it.

The world of possibilities is a shifting, indescribable wonder and she has the distinct feeling it's different for everyone. But the closest description of what she experiences is that of endless rivers connecting endless oceans, and under the calm surface lies all the choices that could ever be made from that point onwards.

She plunges into a teal river. It is cool and rational against her skin, flowing like she is swimming in ribbons of cold logic. Teal has always been the hardest colour for her to smell, she is too close to it. But she likes it, it makes her think of dragons and justice.

She spends hours sitting on the cold floor of her respiteblock drowning in teal and trying to absorb the infinity that is could be.

\--

Terezi has had her fair share of gambles. Vriska was one that she lost not once, but four times over.

Karkat was another.

Karkat's veins burn uncontrollably with crimson fire. She calls it cherry to tease, and when she is removed and viewing him through a computer it really does bring cherries to mind, but in real life it's more like molten lava. There was no way his thin layer of ashy, charred skin could have hidden something so blindly bright from her.

But as much as Karkat is like a fire out of control he is even more like a black hole. He always has sucked others into him and his life. There is just something about his personality that is magnetic and infuriating by nature, no one can seem to help themselves. It didn’t matter if they liked him or hated him, the one thing no one could do was ignore him.

Terezi had known she was being drawn in from the start; she had welcomed it in a beautiful spiral of gold and cherry fire.

But the one person who could never ignore Karkat and the one person Karkat could never ignore was himself. He was the closest one to his gravitational pull and was drawn into himself more than anyone else ever would be. Maybe he would learn to someday, but as it stood Karkat couldn't look outside of his black hole and see her, not really.

Terezi is a lot of things, some good some bad, but she is not willing to play second folksy string instrument to anyone.

\--

Sometimes when she thinks of gambling she smells kiwis and tastes fear.

Fear tastes like something that is bitter, salty and pungently sour. It sticks on the tongue like a spoonful of molasses. Dave had done a good job of hiding it when he had lain down on his stone bed, still swathed in vibrant greens. But a thin sugar glaze of indifference and a silvery sheen of trust wasn't going to mask something that tasted so awful, no matter how much he tried.

These days Dave is candy apple red, a real treat with his caramel skin and vanilla hair. It's an appealing combination that she could just be around all day, even if Dave wasn't already such good company. But sometimes when she stands a little too close to him, or looks in his direction a little too long, or when they reach for a can at the same time she gets the smell of something that makes her think of rotting kiwis.

\--

She is watching the scene of a man she doesn't know get skewered.

The boy getting run through with a ray tangible sunlight fizzles a vibrant orange before the familiar taste of death begins to creep in. His sword clatters to the ground and she can taste his cafe au lait hands clutching at the ray of lemony light in his chest.

She shouldn't have even bothered looking at this scenario, it's extremely unlikely to occur being as far away from the main timeline as it is. This is a stream branching off a river that she is going to leave soon, but she was drawn by the black liquorish gloss of his sunglasses and the spun sugar feathers of his hair. There's no doubt this is Dave's ancestor and descendant in one.

Terezi smells his red, red blood, tastes spoiled orange sodas as he dies and his Denizen, a massive yellow thing, shrieks rage and sorrow over his body. With the stark darkness of his glasses and bright contrast of his hair it's the equivalent of a look alike.

The whole scene reeks of kiwis.

\--

Rose finds her as she is floating leisurely back to more likely events. She watches a girl brandishing a spoon yelling in the face of another girl who bubbles like pink champagne. She moves further along and sees John's blue raspberry bright smile as he crushes Dave in a hug.

"Still trying to predict everything?" Terezi slips seamlessly out from the world of Mind to get a better sense of her surroundings. She must have been very distracted if she hadn't noticed Rose come in. There's never any mistaking her; Rose smells like wilting lilacs and something that shouldn't be alive. She is a high contrast shadow cast by the brightest light. "You're going to be here a very long time, I hope you realize."

"I'm not trying to predict everything." Terezi gets up off the uncomfortable floor and leans down to rub at her sleeping legs. She wonders absently just how long she spent this time that she's cramping up. "Just the important things."

"I don't think even that's possible." Rose's body shifts to the side and Terezi feels more than anything else the practiced movement of her knowing smile. "There's an element of chance in everything we do, even in trying to predict chance."

Terezi frowns but doesn’t bother look over. If she had wanted a lecture on chance she would have asked for it. "I'll settle for evening the odds."

"If you say so." The tone of Rose's voice says that she doesn't believe Terezi can do it, at least not the way she is trying. But it's not like Terezi is looking for her approval. She likes Rose as far as it goes, but her saffron robes are too familiar. So is the way Rose's presence can overwhelm a room. "I just wanted to let you know that Karkat has started a stew. It might even be edible this time.”

Terezi nods at her absently as she stretches out her arms. "I'll be there in a bit to make sure everyone's still alive."

Rose chuckles at her and sweeps out of the room in a whirl of saffron and self assuredness.

Fucking heroes of light.

\--

Just like Karkat burns in person, the essence that makes up Dave isn't static. It's a thrumming scarlet rhythm that plays in his veins and beats in time with the bass of his heart.

Sometimes when she is lying on the cold hard floor, sick and tired of trying to predict the fate of three universes or more, wondering if Lalonde was right, he shows just up. She's not sure how he knows, dumb luck probably (stupid, stupid luck).

He'll just appear in her doorway, the pulsing red rhythm catching her attention. And he will wait silent and awkward until she acknowledges him, looking at him even though she doesn't need to. Invariably he'll have a boombox, or crayons or whatever stupid thing he has made or found for whatever stupid reason.

"Yo, tz, check this shit."

Without fail she'll pick herself up and check it.

\--

Dave makes her laugh.

Even more than that he makes her want to throw everything away, forget everything and everyone else and listen to the rhythm in his veins. There's just something about him that hooks her every time. It’s the way he'll mumble soft tangents that grow louder as she eggs him on until they're throwing cans and pillows, until their hands are chalky all the way up to the wrists and he's spitting out waxy crayon while she howls with laughter.

She wants to drag him somewhere where it doesn't have to change, where he doesn't get steadily more nervous at the thought of the new session and he never has to remember dying under the fire of a green sun. Where they'll never have to take another chance, and he can make her a hundred remixes, and she can soak up the heat in his bones and laugh and laugh until she never stops.

She knows that Dave isn't half as anything as he pretends. She knows that she could topple him easily, break him down to nothing, but that isn’t what she wants.

What she wants is to smother snickers as they find out that chalk moustaches work ridiculously well on carapaces.

\--

The smell of kiwis is a slap in the face.

She's been investing too much time in Dave, building up something that they are going to need to address soon. She should have guessed that it was inevitable, but she hadn't wanted to. There was too much risk involved with it. Too much of a chance it just wouldn't work, or even worse that it would and they would get trapped.

He leans in close to pick out a cyan crayon and she forgets her problems for the moment, distracted by his heat.

\--

"Alright, coming by popular demand." His voice is like still water, but there's the slightest waver in his hands. "All tongues and claws are to remain inside the ride. Try to keep your panties dry."

The sunglasses slip off his face and Terezi takes a deep, open mouthed breath. As soon as she does she thinks maybe she should have practiced a little more self restraint. It hits her like a tidal wave.

She isn't really surprised at the physicals. His eyes are red and it was going to take more than a little black currant gloss to trick her into not recognizing her favourite colour. They're nice, although a little pale for her tastes, more watermelon than cherry. The really surprising thing is what she has never, ever gotten from him: the pure taste of unmasked vulnerability.

It's warm and soft, like red sand in her hands. In the background there is also the smell of blueberry bubblegum and gold vying for her attention, but she stalwartly ignores it choosing to concentrate on that warm feeling.

\--

She's been spending even less time than usual trying to predict the new session. After facing Vriska's white-dead eyes it hit her so hard that she could taste her shame, bitter and acidic.

The cool teal rivers feel tepid to her right now. She's boiling over hot and the logic chafes her skin as she swims. She doesn't want to drown in turquoise, she wants throw all of their chance at knowing away and blow it because of a boy.

Stupid, stupid.

She watches Dave and a boy with peppermint green eyes and thick glasses die in a swirling fire caused by a stray lantern on a dead jungle world. Listens to them scream, smells them burn. It's a horrible image and she forces herself to take it in, to emblazon it into her memory.

She's never being left with two choices again.

\--

She's been avoiding Karkat, and now she's avoiding Dave. Unfortunately there aren't all that many places on the meteor to avoid the two of them.

But her and Dave, they've been putting too much of themselves into this and they're forgetting what's important. Or at the least she is.

Terezi is trying with limited success to concentrate on a scenario where something like a drone, but red and metallic, has the misfortune of going up against Rose when Kanaya interrupts. Her concentration shatters to little surprise.

"Excuse me," Kanaya enunciates every word she says with such exaggeration it almost feels like she is some kind of caricature. Terezi likes her, but since she turned into a rainbow drinker she has the permanent smell of death and blood on her. Terezi has been smelling it far too much lately. "But as much of a pleasure as it is to have your company, I have been asked to inquire, and am myself curious, as to why you are choosing to grace me with it instead of others you are more apt to spend time with."

Terezi would have raised her eyebrows but she doesn't need three guesses to figure out which nosy Seer is sticking her olfactory protrusion in where it doesn't belong. As far as she can tell it is Rose's favourite pastime, and Rose doesn't exactly seem ashamed of it.

"I just wanted to concentrate. Your room is usually quiet."

"I see." Kanaya picks a piece of cloth held together with needles that prickle Terezi's tongue to taste. "Please don't allow me to interrupt then."

"Thank you." Terezi readjusts herself on one of the pillows she had decided to sit on, it is comfier than the floor. She thinks that maybe she'll steal one, it would make this easier in the future.

She begins taking deep breaths and was just starting to get back into the meditation when she is interrupted by Kanaya's soft voice again.

"Not to disturb your requested quiet, but I thought I should mention that I personally have found that taking a break and then coming back is the easiest way to concentrate." Terezi turns questioningly to Kanaya, and she can sense an increase in the butterfly flutter of awkwardness that usually surrounds her. "You just looked as though you were having trouble."

\--

She takes her break in the cuisineblock, drinking a cold glass of deep blue grub juice. It isn't her favourite despite how expensive it is, but she hasn’t had it in a long time. She usually prefers to stick with the rusty red or lemon yellow; the blue is a nice change.

Of course with her luck (always the damn luck), Dave waltzes in just as she is finishing her juice. It's hard to miss; he walks in and the air is suddenly ten times thicker. It's weighted down and sticky bitter with fear, sour with mild resent and foggy with confusion. And yet underneath that is something sweet and glinting. The whole mess is topped heavily with the smell of kiwi.

"Sup?" She feels the blur of movement as he mutters the question and walks past her to the cupboards, opening them with a clatter. His rhythm is a little faster than usual but even after Terezi hears the scrape of him taking something he doesn’t move. He's just standing at the cupboards, waiting on her.

She turns to where he is standing, the words tumbling out of her mouth because she can't help herself. "I don't think there's anything for you in there."

She doesn't need eyes to know the confused look he is giving her, especially because he has a can of human 'beeferoni' in his hand. The air is getting even thicker and foggier, but also electric with something else. "What?"

"You said you ate chumps for breakfast, dinner and lunch." Terezi smiles at him and it feels like they’re clicking back in place all over again. She can almost taste it. "And I don't smell any chumps for at least another year."

He stares at her for a moment and then laughs so stuntedly it was like he was in slow motion. But stunted or not it is a breath of fresh air that sweeps in and clears the room of its noxious miasma until there is just him, red and laughing at the canned pasta. "Yeah." He finally says. "No chumps. I'll just have to make do Mr. Boyardee. It's how we coolkids survived the great chump shortage of 1999."

\--

She explains as they sit cross-legged on the floor of a random hallway that Dave declared was just begging for a mural. They're close enough that their knees are almost touching and there's a pack of chalk wedged between them, but they haven't opened it yet. There's also a pile of ninja stars to their left because Dave screwed up with his fetch modus again.

Dave has his head turned up to look at the ceiling, even though it's just boring, tasteless gray metal. "No offence, but that's kind of stupid."

She gives Dave a displeased look but he ignores it and continues, "Like, I get what you're trying to do and all, but that's not how it works. The future is...I don't know. You just gotta do it."

That's a bunch of nonsense. She tells him as much. "You don't get it."

"No, I'm pretty sure I do. It's just..." He sighs as his voice trails off before he starts back up again. "The way timelines work is that they just do. It doesn't matter what you do, the alpha is the one that it's supposed to be no matter what. If I had used my powers to go back in time and stop Abe Lincoln from dying I would get a gold star for effort but shit all else. Being a good boy and getting all my homework in on time would just put me in a doomed timeline."

She is pretty sure she also gets what he is saying, but she isn't so sure it applies to her. This all isn't as simple as timelines. For all they knew she was putting them in the alpha timeline with what she was already doing. "I know how timelines work."

"Good." He leans forwards and she can feel the warmth he radiates and sense the way he is staring into her sundead eyes through his glasses. "Then you can stop worrying about trying to record how many inches your ass is going to sag in ten years and start worrying about what we're gonna draw for our magnum opus."

Dave doesn't understand Seeing and she gets the feeling he doesn't even really understand timelines, but then neither does she.

She leans in so that they are even closer. She can hear the bass that he beats to, low and thrumming under his words.

"The mayor was freaking about you." He is mumbling again, one of his odder habits. Except this time she can actually make out what he is saying with his face just inches from hers. "His head was whipping around so fast I thought he was going to break his neck. Then where would we be? No Mayor, no democracy, no justice. We all know what that leads to. Communism. The cans wouldn't know what was coming, they're fucking cans. How can they resist Lenin's charms when he comes in offering a better life? Then next thing you know there's a can gulag and they're trying to expand the motherland. It’s not like there’s a can America to stop them."

She frowns at him. Just like usual, Dave had started off making sense, but the rest of it is just babble to her. "I don't know what you're saying."

"I'm saying the mayor is in a health crisis caused by a chalk deficiency and you're going to need to make it up to him."

"Okay." She says because she's not totally stupid and she knows what Dave is really saying.

The thing is that Dave has taken so many chances on her, and not all of them were good choices. He's like Vriska; he just keeps marching himself up to the chopping block. Except unlike Vriska, who just hoped for the best, he trusts. He trusts Terezi won't stab him if she had to, even though he should know better. He trusts she won't lead him to his deathbed, even though she has already done it twice over. He trusts his friends can get through this new session, can fight three evils and make it out unscathed, when they couldn't even fight one.

He trusts that Terezi is going to see the feelings he keeps awkwardly showing her and he trusts that she's not going to crush them. And he should know better, he really, really should, but she doesn't want him to.

She reaches up and takes off her glasses and Dave gives her a familiarly deadpan look that tastes like cool metal. "I thought we already did this show and tell. Come on, you gotta up the ante. The rest of the class is watching you like 'the glasses again? Fuck, can't this girl bring in a goldfish or something?' The teacher is thinking about calling home to check and see if you even have any personal possessions at this point. CAS is in on the line, someone get this girl a Dora backpack."

"Dave." She says and sets the glasses down between them. "Shut up."

He quiets down, but he never really shuts up. It's not his fault, that's just the way he was built. She focuses on Dave, concentrates on the swirls of colour that make him up.

It's a huge gamble. Dave is fickle and foreign. She simultaneously understands everything and nothing about him. He can be a repressed idiot and a self absorbed dick. There is the chance that she might get under the layers of ice cool glaze and find another black hole, another boy who was too selfish to see outside of himself.

But he's also Dave. He's ridiculous in the best way, he's unpredictable and he's so, so funny. They click like gears and run smooth like a well oiled machine. She can't stop herself from being carried away when she's with him and neither can he. He was worried about her, he had turned those rare red eyes on her. When he concentrates on her she feels warm even with her cold blood and when he smiles she feels like she's got that soft red sand in her hands.

If she lets this chance go, if she doesn't even try, then she would be betting that he would do this again. That he would be willing to drag her to another hallway with chalk just to get back the status quo. She wonders if maybe Vriska and Rose are right. If everything really is one big gamble.

In the end she doesn't think it matters. At least for now, she doesn’t need to See to figure out what her choices are or what she wants to do.

And this time when she gambles she doesn't smell kiwis or bubblegum. She just feels slightly chapped lips on hers and glasses that are pressed up awkwardly against her face. She tastes the hint of salt that humans have on their skin and smells what Dave has assured her is the most ironic scent in the world – Axe body spray: TWIƧT.

She decides to take it as a good sign.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my prospective entry to the Dave<3Terezi team for the HSO main round 1 – but like a dip I didn't keep an eye on the word count. I still like how it turned out


End file.
